


Lies of the Rebel

by Oddities1991



Category: Supernatural, Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Kid Fic, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-29
Updated: 2012-04-29
Packaged: 2017-11-04 12:38:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oddities1991/pseuds/Oddities1991
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a near-death accident one Christmas eve, Dean and Sam are dropped off in Mystic Falls. Dean finds himself taking on responsibilities otherwise neglected in favor of other crises happening in town. Along the way, he is joined by five-year-old Caroline Forbes, and an amused Zach Salvatore.</p><p>Just when he gets used to things the way they are, however, Dean discovers a danger his father never considered and must fight his way to protect his family. This is the year Dean learns the true burdens of being a hunter. This is the year that sets into motion, the 26 year old man we saw in season one and it all started one Christmas eve with a disappointed glare in the eyes of his father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The December air is cold and the car isn’t built for going well over the hundred miles per hour limit but that doesn’t stop his father from speeding. It never has, never will. When he had somewhere to go, dad was as ruthless against the speed as he was against the monsters that put this road in their path. His father never hesitated in doing the right thing. Or at least, what he thought was the right thing.  
  
Thirteen year old Dean Winchester pulls at his jacket in an effort to insulate the remaining warmth in his skin. It doesn’t help, but the remaining blankets went to his brother and Dean doesn’t feel like causing another fight. He almost wishes they would get there faster, almost wishes that they would be there now but almost doesn’t quite cut it. Almost doesn’t erase the fact that his father is abandoning them.  
  
He sighs, eyes fluttering open as he watches his breath heat the air. He doesn’t move from the window, though his right cheek is red and his ear feels numb. He remains invisible in the back seat, CD player carefully discarded in his lap, headphones keeping his mind occupied and hands settled in his pockets.  
  
Vaguely, Dean realizes that something is missing. He checks the seat in front of him, where Sam is occupying passenger side, fiddling with the toy soldier. It’s the one Dean stole for Sam the night before Christmas. Sam hasn’t let it out of his sight since he got it. On the opposite side, his father’s hands are gripping the wheel, jaw clenching as he stares out at the road. Dean knows that look. It’s the one that says he’s not really looking out there, that his mind is somewhere else; that his anger is past its boiling point and someone is about to take on the brunt of the action.  
  
It’s then, as he watches dad’s lips move, that Dean realizes the sounds he’s hearing aren’t coming from the headphones. There is no guitar strumming or drums pounding in his ears. There is nothing but the sound of his father’s booming voice.  
  
“Sammy, would you put the goddamn doll down and listen to me?” Sam does pause, but only briefly. He doesn’t move from his spot, doesn’t turn to face dad. Dean can catch the blank expression on Sam’s face from the space between the seat and the door. A second glance at dad tells Dean that he’s about to explode. Dad doesn’t know that Sam hasn’t been talking, not for days. Not since dad came barreling in with his gun cocked and aimed at the bastard beast that almost got his son.  
  
Dean pulls himself away from the window, the cold ripping at his skin like a Band-Aid. The abrupt movement makes the CD player slide to the side of leg, until it crashes into the side of the leather seat.  
  
“It isn’t a doll, dad.” Dean says, for once the hands clenching at the wheel doing nothing to stop his defiance. He doesn’t care anymore, doesn’t want to, doesn’t need to. Dad doesn’t have a hold over them.  
  
“I don’t care what it is,” Dad snaps, barely glancing back at him. “Go back to sleep, Dean.”  
  
Dean narrows his eyes, his own jaws clenching as he glares at his father. “It’s not a doll,” He says loudly, “it’s an action figure. And he knows.”  
  
“He knows what, Dean?” His name is chewed and spat out between teeth. It’s enough to make him want to apologize but dad is leaving them and Dean can’t let him win. Not this time.  
  
“He knows,” Dean snaps. “About all of it. Why you leave -”  
  
“You know why I leave. I explained it to you.”  
  
Dean bites back a groan. There is only so much you can do before you push dad over the edge. He wouldn’t ever hurt them, but he might come back wounded. In all reality, he might not come back at all.  
  
“Doesn’t make it right.” Dean mutteres.  
  
“Nothing about this is right.” Dad agrees, but not like he’s wrong. “What did you tell Sammy?”  
  
The boy in question hasn’t returned to his doll. He clenches it instead, and Dean is worried for a moment, that Sam might explode too. Dean draws in a breath, hands stretching the cloth past it’s limit.  
  
“All of it.” He mutters again, cheeks reddening despite the plummeting temperatures.  
  
“What do you mean all of it?”  
  
“I mean all of it, dad.”  
  
“Goddamn it, Dean. I told you, he doesn’t need that crap.”  
  
And I do? Dean glares at the back of his father’s seat, jaw set as he sighs. Dad doesn’t get it, but he knew that already. Dad wouldn’t ever get it. He wasn’t the one making up excuses, wasn’t the one making sure Sam had the right clothes and foods. He wasn’t ever the one.  
  
“Forget it.” Dean mutters again, turning his gaze out the window. Dad doesn’t say anything, he never does. For once, Dean wishes he would. How long did the man expect Dean to lie to his brother?  
  
Dad is quiet for a good long moment, and then he tries a different tactic. “Look, kiddo,” Its a voice that is supposed to be soothing but to Dean, it’s stupid and patronizing and enough to make him want to scream.  
  
He hasn’t been a kid since the night he carried his little brother out of his burning home. Dean doesn’t say anything, instead, he’s keeping his gaze anywhere but at his father. It was stupid to think anything would be different. Yet, at the same time, nothing would ever be the same.  
  
“It’s just a temporary thing. One day you’ll understand.”  
  
The problem for Dean is that he does understand. He understands perfectly. He also understands that Sam needs a father, someone other than him to look out for the boy. Sam needs things that Dean can’t provide - that he doesn’t know how to provide. He knows that Sam is starting to understand, but Dean doesn’t want that understanding for his brother. All the while, dad’s too busy playing superhero to see how much Sam needs him.


	2. Untouched Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean meets Liz Forbes.

There is something altogether irritating about the danger of ignorance. What’s worse is the people who don’t bother to dig deeper when they know something is wrong. Small towns like Mystic Falls are exactly the kind of place monsters like to hide in. It’s the people who make it. They’d rather bury their heads in sand than protect their own. They force other people - people like dad - to do it instead. It doesn’t matter if they lose their life in the process, or if they have their own families to protect.  
  
As the car pulls into the police station, Dean can spot several escape routes. At the same time, there are plenty of opportunities for the monsters to come riding in through the near by forest. It makes Dean uneasy, and a glance at his father says that dad is thinking the same. The uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach doesn’t stop Dean from sulking in the back seat, eyes narrowed out the window as he turns away from his father before the man can catch him. He doesn’t move even as the door cracks open. It’s only after the car door slams shut and the trunk gives a distinct ‘pop’ sound of opening that Dean turns to face his father’s previous seat. He glares at it, as if the seat is at fault for his father’s bad mood.  
  
Dad comes around a few minutes later, tapping on the window glass. Dean reaches over and rolls down the window. Behind dad, he spots a woman making her way towards the car. Even so far away, Dean can see the way her feet pound on the ground. She is tall and blond, with the kind of hair the girls at school wore. Some how, that anger is vaguely familiar to Dean but he can’t place it. He gives his father a glance. “Is that her?”  
  
Dad doesn’t even glance back. The glare startles him, but Dean doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t take back his question, doesn’t avert his eyes.   
  
“Stay in the car, Dean. Keep an eye on your brother.” He says, and Dean wants to roll his eyes. Instead, he settles for a nod, running a hand through his hair. Dad doesn’t wait for the answer. He is already headed towards the woman in blue.  
  
Most women are intimidated by dad. Not this one. Even though Dean can’t hear the specific words, he recognizes the tones. The growls and shouts spill into the car through the window, and while Sam doesn’t seem to hear any of it, Dean can’t peel his eyes away. This woman is fearless as she fights back. She’s like a lion and Dean can’t help but be impressed. It takes balls to stand up to his father, especially when he is determined that things are supposed to be a certain way.  
  
The fight continues like this but once another man joins them the angry sounds die down. Dad and the woman look at the man, who, making a few gestures, nods to the impala. Dean doesn’t realize that the man means them until the woman catches his eyes and softens her gaze. Dean lifts his nose in disgust, but he doesn’t turn away. He settles for glaring back at her instead. She returns the glare with a smile and Dean mutters under his breath.  
  
The man pats his father on the shoulder, nodding towards the building. Dad gives a nod, saying something quickly and then making his way towards the car. Behind him, the woman and her partner are arguing about something - presumably dad - but eventually go inside.  
  
Dean doesn’t even realize that his father is anywhere near the car, too intent on the woman. He curses himself mentally, glancing briefly at Sam, then dad. Before dad can even knock on the window, Dean is rolling it down. “Who is she, dad?” He asks again, knowing that he’ll probably get the same non-answer as last time.  
  
“Just a friend.” Dean resists a sigh. Though it does reveal some things. Friends of the Winchesters usually meant people who knew things. They were people who had weapons or information or back doors to go through. Sometimes they were friendly, sometimes they weren’t. Dean can’t tell if this woman is a friendly or not, though he’s leaning towards the former. Not many people got away with talking back to dad.  
  
“Okay,” Dean says relentlessly, “What kind of friend?”  
  
The look Dean receives is enough to shut him up but it’s lightened by a bemused smile. “I need you to stay with your brother, Dean. Can I count on you to not leave the car?”  
  
Dean blinks up at dad, shifting uncertainly. “Um,” He says dumbly, “Sure. I mean yes, uh, sir.” He doesn’t dodge when his father pats his head and ruffles his hair. Dad smiles at him, but Dean is still thinking about Sam and all the things that can go wrong. Dean finally smacks the hand away lightly, staring at his father with the most serious look he can muster. “What are you going to do?” Dean questions.  
  
“I have to talk to Sheriff Forbes and his daughter. It shouldn’t take long.” This is the most information dad had given away in weeks. Dean gives a nod, not sure how much more he can push it.  
  
“Okay.” Dean says, “I’ll look after Sam.”  
  
Dad smiles at him, and something in Dean settles. “Thanks kiddo.” With that, dad is heading back into the building. Dean turns in his seat, only to see Sam giving him a knowing look. It feels wrong for a nine year old to have that look and Dean scowls at him. “Shut up.”  
  
Sam only shrugs, unperturbed and returns to the action figure.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam, Dean, Liz and a police car.

There is nothing short of amusing about the way Sam is grinning when they find themselves in the police cruiser. Dean has to smile, though he wants to remain stoic in front of the stranger. Sam tends to do that to people. He smiles and it’s like the whole world is being lifted by this small child. Dean sits in the back, the siren wailing at the top. He pretends to groan, trying to save face as just-call-me-Liz looks back at him.

“Come on Sammy,” He complains good naturedly, but he’s shocked when Sam turns back at him with an interruption. “No you come on, Dean,” He says eagerly, “How often do we get to ride in a police car?”

Dean makes a show of rolling his eyes, though it takes him a moment to reel from the words. This wasn’t the first time for him but Sam had always been hidden away. He hadn’t ever been caught. His brother could be a sneaky little brat when he wanted too.

“You’re such a kid.” He says, and reaches to create a mess out of the mop that was his brother’s hair. Sam mutters something under his breath and Dean grins. Through the exchange, he doesn’t miss the way Liz is smiling at them. He chooses to ignore her for the moment, in favor of his brother.

 

When they reach the house, Dean finds that it is a small one story home laying at the edge of the forest. The second thing he notices is the smell of fresh food. He doesn’t know how he could be hungry again - they had stopped a diner only only a few hours before - but Dean doesn’t question these things. Sam always says that Dean could eat an entire refrigerator and still be famished. His brother’s word, not his.

He lets the huger distract him, for a moment, as they climb out of the car. Dean takes stock of the environment. There is a welcome mat and Dean wonders idly, if the woman knows to be prepared for everything that goes on. His father seems to think that was the case, otherwise they wouldn’t be there.

Dean is the first to reach the door way. He lifts the mat with the edge of his shoe and can’t help the frown as the porch remains vacant. No protection there. A hand placed on his shoulder brings Dean out of his paranoia and he gives a swift turn, blinking up at the bearer as Liz gives him a knowing smile. “Something missing?”

Dean searches for the mocking in her voice. There is none and he shuffles back, just out of her reach. “Devil’s trap.” He says, “keeps the demons from getting in.” The smile he gets isn’t a happy one and Dean doesn’t like the pity on it.

“I thought salt did the trick?”

Dean hesitates. He doesn’t want to give too much away, but this does give him something. She knows, though how much he isn’t sure. She wasn’t talking to him like he was a kid though, she isn’t taking offence. That was always a plus. “For ghosts, yeah. “ He says, “But they aren’t the only thing you need to worry about.”

“Your father mentioned some things,” She says and he can hear the thoughts in her voice. It only takes once to destroy everything about their apple-pie world. “But this town isn’t exactly riddling with those types of things.” She’s leaving something out, but Dean doesn’t cut in. Everybody thought the same of ‘their’ town.

Still, she’s talking like she understands him, like what he says makes sense. Dean frowns at her but he doesn’t say anything, not even as she dangles the keys and opens the door. “Come on,” she says, “smells like Roger is making Caroline’s favorite pie. You’ve got to be hungry after that road trip.”

He is, but Dean doesn’t say anything. It isn’t like his father was starving them. He was just hungry, all the time.

“Dean loves pies.” Sam supplies from behind them and Dean almost jumps at the intrusion. He swears at himself. How could he have forgotten about Sam? He takes his brother by the arm and pulls Sam beside him, hanging his arm around the boy’s shoulder with easy familiarity.

“Not really something she needs to know, Sammy.” He says, leading his brother inside.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Don’t be an ass, Dean.”

Dean sighs the word as Sam chastises him. “Bitch.”

“Jerk.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam meet the family.

The house is bigger than it looks. From the doorway, Dean can spot the open living room. To his immediate left, he spots the stair case leading upstairs. Along side it, the living room features a couch, toys and a television which is currently playing My Little Pony. Dean cringes. Caroline, he remembers, must be one of those girly girls that adore everything princess-y. He claps his brother on the shoulder.  
  
“Looks like you’ll be right at home, princess.” He teases. Sam shrugs him off, fixing Dean with a look that he returns with an unapologetic grin. Sam looks like he wants to say something, but before he can a man comes through the door gripping a roller in one hand a and a small child held in the other. Dean lifts an eyebrow at the man - Roger, he assumes.  
  
Roger looks at them for a moment, and Dean can see the expression clearly through the clean shaven chin. They lock eyes for a moment, and Roger is the first to look away though he covers it by fixing a look at his wife. From the way his jaw clenches, Dean wonders if maybe he and Sammy should get out of the way.  
  
“I thought they were coming tomorrow?”  
  
“They came early.”  
  
It’s an old argument. Dean can read the unspoken words like they’re a second language. He fights a sigh, carefully grasping Sam by the arm. If Roger doesn’t want them there that isn’t their problem and they don’t need to hear about it. He pulls his younger brother up the stairs. “Come on Sammy, I bet I can guess which room is ours.”  
  
They leave the adults seething at each other.  
  
  
The first one is large. It has a huge bed with one side unmade and things clustered all over the floor. It reminds Dean of a motel room, with the photograph face down at the bedside table. He knows his father kept a picture of them beneath his pillow. Sometimes, Dean wakes up early enough to find his father staring at it for hours.  
  
The second bedroom is obviously Caroline’s. It is a soft blue with pink littered all over the room. Toys are scattered on the floor - most of them Barbie’s and plastic horses. Dean wrinkles his nose and immediately drags Sam into the third room. It’s like the first, but neater. Sam is behind him, blinking at the bland brown-black-and-white tones that dull the area.  
  
“There’s only one bed.” Sam observes.  
  
“She told us we’d be sharing a room. Not like we haven’t before, Sammy.” Dean muses, venturing further into the room so he can jump on the bed. It’s soft and warm, like someone had slept in it before. Dean doesn’t question it, but Sam picks up a shirt that’d been shoved under the bed.  
  
“Are parents supposed to be sleeping in different rooms?” Sam wonders aloud and Dean does sigh this time, reaching to pull his brother onto the bed next to him.  
  
“Who says it's his?” Dean ignores the slap at his side, grinning as he pulls Sam into a headlock. Sam squeaks indignantly, and Dean has to laugh.  
  
“Okay, okay, I give!” Sam exclaims. Dean promptly releases the nine year old.  
  
“Don’t think about it, okay? This place is weird enough as it is.”  
  
Sam doesn’t say anything, but Dean doesn’t bother looking. He’s had enough of fixing other people’s problems. The fact that they probably just fueled the fire doesn’t bother him. That's what Dean tells himself as he pulls the CD player out of the duffel bag.  
  
  
They pass out on the bed within minutes. If they were at a hotel, Dean would have found the clicker and cartoons. This was a house though, with screaming matches and slammed doors and shirts that don’t belong. Sam is wearing his headphones. Sleep is hard to come by when people are fighting about you, and while Dean can ignore it, Sam gets this puppy-dog look in his eyes when he listens to it for too long.  
  
That is why, with his arm over his forehead, Dean is humming to Smoke on the Water as he taps the rhythm on his leg. He concentrates on remembering the lyrics, bobbing his head every so often as the mood strikes him. Sam may have his headphones, but he doesn’t need them to know great music.  
  
The house sounds empty. Food cooks a flight down, but Dean isn’t about to go into a strangers kitchen and beg. He isn’t stupid. A tap on his shoulder brings Dean out from his thoughts. He blinks at the intrusion and peers over at his brother.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Battery’s dead.” Sam says, tugging the headphone off his ears.  
  
“Again?” Dean swears, running a hand through his hair as he snatches the CD player from Sam’s lap. He is too rough in his pull, and the headphones clatter on the bed but Dean doesn’t pay attention as he sits up to investigate.  
  
Sam is sitting up now, with him and watches as Dean flips the device around so he can get into the battery holder. “Didn’t you get new ones when we got here?”  
  
“Yeah,” Dean says, not looking up as he pulls them out. “Must be shot.”  
  
“Maybe its’ the weather.”  
  
Sam shrugs. “Can you get new ones? I liked that song.”  
  
Dean shook his head. “You hate my music.” He says, finally sparing a glance for his brother.  
  
Sam shrugs. “Headbanger isn’t, you know...” He agrees, “but I still like the song.”  
  
Dean rolls his eyes and reaches for the duffle bag. He got a whole pack somewhere, but the package is nowhere to be found. He sighs.  
  
“Must’ve left them in the car.” He tells Sam, “I’ll go get some.”  
  
“You sure Liz will be okay with that?”  
  
Dean rolls his eyes. “So what if she’s not? She isn’t here anyway.”  
  
“Then whose cooking?”  
  
“Roger.”  
  
Sam shifts at the name. “I don’t think he likes us.” He admits and Dean rolls his eyes.  
  
“So? We don’t have to like him either.” Dean grabs a wallet from the duffle bag and shoves it into his pocket as he pushes the duffle bag to the edge of the bed. “I’m going to the gas station.” He tells Sam, before the boy can protest. “Stay in the room till’ I get back, okay?”  
  
Sam blinks at him but he gives a slow nod. This part of the routine is familiar and Dean reaches over to mess up Sam’s hair. “Want anything?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Okay then.” Dean gets out of the bed, patting the pocket where the wallet is and heads down the stairs.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean encounters a five year old Caroline.

Caroline is waiting for him at the bottom of the steps. She glares at him as he hurries down the last step, looking in all the world like an indignant five year old. Dean wrinkles his nose at her to peel his face into a scowl.  
  
“You did it, you know.” She tells him before he can make up his mind.  
  
Despite himself, Dean can’t help but respond. “Did what?”  
  
She jerks a finger towards the couch, where Roger is passed out, wine glass on the table. “That!”  
  
Dean snorts, rolling his eyes. “Yeah. Right. Listen kid,” He says, “Why don’t you hang with Sammy? I bet you can get him to play with your dolls.” He hates the idea himself, but he hates the thought of leaving a five year old on her own even more. If she got hurt, he’d be the one to blame.  
  
She stomps her feet at him and he has to grin. “I don’t want to play!”  
  
Dean rolls his eyes. How did he wind up dealing with the kids? “What do you want?” He forces his voice to remain calm. Children can sense your fear - and irritation and Dean had enough to worry about without dealing with an upset five year old.  
  
“You gone!”  
  
Dean gives an irritated grunt. “Too bad.” He says, and storms past her, towards the door.  
  
“You can’t leave! It’s against the rules to leave without an adult!” Dean cringes. Sam hadn’t been this bad at five.  
  
Dean slams the door hard in response to her screeching, deciding that the guilt churning at his stomach had everything to do with leaving Sam to deal with a brat and nothing to do with walking out on a kid he doesn’t even know.  
  
As he leaves, Dean hears a crash inside, and the shouts of “Damn it, Caroline!”, and his pace is that much faster. He tells himself Sam will be fine, that whatever Caroline does, it has nothing to do with his brother. Besides, Sam is good at making himself invisible.  
  
  
Mystic Falls is one of those towns where everything is ten minutes away. Dean takes his time, stretching the walk into a fifteen minute trip as he takes in the December air and the empty streets. It isn’t as cold as it had been earlier, but, with his hands in the jacket pockets, he still pulls the fabric closer.  
  
“I hate December.” Dean decides in a mutter as he glowers at the ground. Idly, he kicks a can out of his way as he ventures into the gas station’s parking lot. This entire town sucks, Dean continues in his thoughts, and the people are crap.  
  
He’s reluctant as he pulls open the door. The metal handle is cold - like everything else in this godforsaken town - and he adds that to the list of things he hates about this place. The store itself is small, with 3 rows of junk food and refrigerators along the sides. He finds batteries along the window isle, snags them and wonders into the snack area.  
  
In the end, nothing looks good enough except a pack of miniature cookies - which he stuffs into his pocket - for Sam. There is a huge ass cookie glaring at him at the end of the isle as he heads to the counter and it takes five glances back before he decides to buy the damn thing.  
  
It’s as he is buying the items, that Dean hears the rumble of a convertible accompanied by a shout of joy. He rolls his eyes, stuffing the cookies and batteries into his other pocket. no time line the present he muses, shoving out the door.  
  
  
A pack of kids hang around the convertible, though there are three different cars. Dean can spot the leader a mile away, even if he hadn‘t been the one driving. The boy is taller than him, obviously older, with curly hair and sports the sort of jacket Dean’s used to seeing in the movies. Hanging on his arm is a pretty girl with a lopsided grin and a pair of the prettiest lips he’s ever seen.  
  
Dean grins, his feet making his decision before he can talk himself out of it. “Nice car,” He comments, hands suspended in his jacket’s pocket. He doesn’t bother looking at the older boy, though. He smiles at the girl, using the same smile hotel maids had always been helpless against. Hers is one that could light up the world.  
  
Finally, he forces his gaze at the other boy, his grin stretching as he spots the annoyed look before the boy can wipe it from his features.  
  
“Good eye.” The boy says, pulling his arm out from the girls grasp only to place his hand around her shoulder and pull her close.  
  
“I’ve got a thing for cars,” Dean comments, “family tradition.”  
  
“Town’s been looking for a good mechanic.” The boy nods, “I’m Logan Fells.” He says.  
  
Dean ignores the offered hand, leaning back a bit to observe the rest of the group.  
  
“Jenna Sommers.” The girl at Logan’s side says as Logan takes his hand back, shoving it in his pockets. “That back there,” She nods to the tall redhead lurking in the back. “Is Kelly Donovan.”  
  
The woman lifts a bottle at him, giving a cool smile. “Yo.” She says dryly, before taking a swig.  
  
“Dean Winchester.” He says, choosing to ignore the woman. Hey, if he had someone who would buy him beer, he’d be drinking too. Not that he’d ever had the chance to try before.  
  
“Winchester, like the gun?” Logan runs a hand through his hair.  
  
Dean blinks at Logan. “Yeah,” He agrees, “Like the gun.”  
  
“Hey,” someone says from the right of Logan before the silence can stretch too long. “Look who showed up.”  
  
“Well if it isn’t the freak.”  
  
“Hey, Salvatore, your girlfriend tired of you barrowing her make up?” The crowd snickers and Dean has to repress a sigh. Why people like Logan attracted pretty girls like Jenna is beyond him. Dean knows he could be a jerk sometimes, but he’d never be like this ass and his friends.  
  
“Naw man,” says another boy, “More like his boyfriend dresses him up.”  
  
Dean turns to spot the kid everybody is laughing at. He’s ignoring them all, clad in skinny jeans, a jacket and hands shoved into his pocket. Dean tells himself that he’d be wasting his time on somebody who takes this crap, as he turns to face the others again.  
  
“Logan,” Says Jenna, “do something about them!”  
  
“Like what? Come on, Jenna, the kids a freak.”  
  
Besides, Dean thinks, if he can’t handle bullies, that’s his problem.  
  
Jenna glares at Logan and, huffs when he rolls his eyes at him like he’s supposed to understand the words in her eyes. When she shoves away from him, she storms past Dean, to Salvatore and Dean can’t help the smirk that makes its way to his features. There is something about the women in this town. Something Dean can’t quite put his finger on, and somehow, Dean doesn’t mind it so much.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam disappears with little Caroline.

Once he makes it back to the Forbes household, it takes him a while to figure out how to go in unnoticed. In the end, he chooses to go through the front door, despite initial intentions to return through the window. The cruiser is still gone and the last he’d seen of Roger, the man had passed out on the couch.  
  
He dashes up the stairs, bag in hand as he makes his way to their designated room but his heart stops when Dean finds the guest room is empty. There is no bratty little Caroline (not that he’d expected her to listen to him) and there is no sulking Sam and Dean has to take a moment and remind himself to breathe as he tries to think where his brother would have gone.  
  
“Sam!” Dean whirls around, the name growled between his teeth as he storms out of the room and back into the hallway. “Sam!” He doesn’t care if Roger will wake up, doesn’t think about the trouble it’d get him into. All he knows in that moment is that his brother is missing and if he gets hurt - well it wasn’t happening. Again. Ever.  
  
“Sammy!” Dean shoves through room after room until he spots them out the kitchen window. He swears, loudly, jerking the door open as he makes his way to the backyard. He stops inches away from his brother, watching as Caroline sticks her hand in the dirt.  
  
“What are you doing?” The words sound forced.  
  
“We’re building a fairy home!” Caroline informs him without looking up from her work. Dean blinks at her, the previous panic - and rising anger - giving away to confusion. “What?”  
  
“A fairie home,” Caroline repeats. “Sam said they like dirt.” She wrinkles her nose, “It’s gross.”  
  
A look a Sam gives Dean a picture-perfect face of guilt. It’s a money-maker, and while other people would fall for the act, Dean was not budging. “She was crying.”  
  
Dean only shakes his head. “If I get in trouble,” he says in a huff, “I’m blaming you.” Sam only snorts at the empty threat.  
  
“Why would you get in trouble?” Sam asks, “You didn’t get caught, did you?”  
  
Dean’s look must have said something, because Sam laughs. Dean ignores his brother, turning to Caroline instead. “Come on,” he says, “We should get inside. It’s cold.” He glances up, surprised to see that it was already dark.  
  
The girl gives a pout. “But I want to make the fairy home!”  
  
“Sam’ll work on it with you tomorrow,” Dean offers his hand and gives the girl his most winning smile. She stares at it for a moment, then looks up at him contemplatively. Dean doesn’t like it, she’s like five, and it’s like she can read his lie.  
  
“There’s a cookie eating contest involved.”  
  
Caroline perks up, turning back into a typical five year old as she ignores his hand to help herself up instead. “Mommy doesn’t like cookies.” She says, rocking back on her heels. Dean rolls his eyes, and reaches for both his brother and Caroline.  
  
“So? She’s not here, is she?”  
  
“Dean -”  
  
“Shut it, Sammy.”  
  
He drags both kids into the house without another word, the door swinging shut behind them.  
  
  
Dad still hasn’t called by the time the third day approaches. The fact that they were on their own more often than not numbed him to the worry. Now, the fact that they were left in the care of strangers, that worry festers from stupid kid shit to legitimacy. Dad always called, no matter where they are, no matter who they’re with. Yet now, three days and there is nothing.  
  
Dean clutches the phone to his ear, listening to his fathers voice on the message machine. This of course, is nothing new. Dad tends to go underground, deep, deep underground where nothing can touch him. Its why he calls every day instead of making Dean check in himself.  
  
Sam is in the other side of the room, glancing at him sideways and playing with Caroline at the same time. Dean can’t catch what Sam is saying, because it’s all very hush, hush after the storm her parents left behind the night before. Dean doesn’t blame Liz for yelling, though. He would too, if the man who was supposed to be responsible for children had passed out on the couch instead. Sam has other ideas, though, and Dean hates the way he looks at Caroline - like there is something familiar about her.  
  
He grunts into the phone, shoving it into the receiver. Dad doesn’t answer, not that it is any kind of surprise. He leans against the wall, sighing as he runs a hand through his hair. The room is quiet, suddenly, and Sam is peering at him with these goddamned hopeful eyes. It forces Dean to pick the phone up and dial the number a second time.  
  
“Not answering, huh?” Sam says sagely, walking towards him. Dean glances at him, jaw clenched as he mutters into the phone. “Shut up, Sammy.”  
  
Caroline is right behind Sam, rocking back on her heels as she clutches at the back of his shirt. Her cheek is pressed against his side as she stares at him suspiciously. Dean scowls at her, and she hides further behind Sam.  
  
“Caroline and me were thinking about playing outside.” Sam says, ignoring Dean’s bad mood.  
  
Dean slams the phone into the receiver again, and it bangs at the wall, falling to the side. Grunting, Dean tries a second time, shoving instead of slamming. He looks at Sam, loosening the jaw in an effort to keep the anger from his brother.  
  
“Fine.” He mutters, letting his fists fall to the side. “I’ll try again later.”  
  
Sams smile is all-knowing and irritating and it makes Dean grunt. He turns his back on his brother, the first to weave through the kitchen and out the back door.  
  
  
Liz Forbes greets them when they return indoors at the sound of a grumbling car. Caroline is a mess of dirt and grime but she is all smiles. She’s the first in the house this time, a bounce in her step and tugging Sam along with her. Dean trials behind them, shutting the door with a kick of his foot on the way in. The silence that follows is abrupt but nothing short of expected.  
  
Liz sets her gun on the counter, a tired smile accompanying equally tired eyes. Dean knows the look, but he can’t quite bring himself to care. He stops just behind Sam and Caroline. His brother leans against him, just slightly so it’s barely noticeable. It drags Caroline to the other side, though and Dean wonders, idly, when he became the go-to man.  
  
“Hey,” He offers awkwardly. Liz looks at the three of them, covered in dirt and grime and grass stains on their pants and dresses. The smile twitches at her lips, a snort covering the laughter.  
  
“Hey yourself. You guys having fun?” The smile leaks into her question and the tension in the room seems to ease.  
  
Dean shrugs it off. “Just kids stuff,” he says, “They wanted to hang outside. Build doll houses -”  
  
“Fairy!” Caroline interrupts his explanation with the correction. “Sam says that they like dirt and stuff, and we were making it in case they want to move in. They travel too! They’re like people only smaller!”  
  
“Is that so?” Liz sounds vaguely amused. Dean has the idea that this is the sort of thing Caroline does a lot. Fairies, Barbie’s, and My Little Pony tends to go hand in hand. At least, as far as he’s concerned. Three days here, and, though he won’t admit it, he can tell you Ken and Barbie’s every arch from beginning to end. He’s left Sam to do the actual pretend part, but he’s always close enough to hear - and laugh at - the details.  
  
Caroline gives an enthusiastic nod and finally detaches herself from Sam to grab at her mothers hand. “Come look!” She insists, tugging her mother towards the door. The woman remains immobile. “Maybe later, Caroline. Why don’t you help me figure out what’s for dinner instead?”  
  
Caroline pouts. “Daddy said he was going to cook tonight. There was cake!”  
  
“Dad’s going to be late tonight.” Liz explains gently, glancing at Dean. He, in turn, shifts uncomfortably. After the night before, he can’t believe that the man would come back at all.  
  
“Besides, I think we need a little less sweets in our lives.” Liz says, pulling Caroline up and holding her close.  
  
“No way!” Caroline protests, slinging small hands around her mothers neck. “Cake is the best!” She says, as if that explains everything. Dean snorts, shaking his head.  
  
“That would be pie, princess.”  
  
Caroline crains her neck to glare at Dean. “Daddy wanted cake.”  
  
“He’s not here.” Dean snips.  
  
“How about we do salad tonight, and go out for ice-cream afterwards?” Liz suggests, intertwining Caroline’s fingers into hers in an attempt at distraction. Caroline pouts, sulking in her mothers arms.  
  
“I’m good with that.” Sam says, offering Caroline (and, Dean suspects, Liz) a helpful smile.  
  
“Okay.” Caroline says reluctantly, “If you say so but if daddy gets angry, I’m blaming you!” She points the accusing finger directly at Dean. He glares at her in return. “I didn’t do anything!” He defends.  
  
“Alright,” Liz says before Caroline can push anymore buttons. “who wants to help with the lettuce?”  
  
  
The next day, Dean is woken from the smell of burnt batter. It’s an unfamiliar, unpleasant odor and he groans in his sleep before he remembers what it means. It’s a second before his mind gets in gear and he jerks awake. Still clad in only his boxers, Dean storms down the stairs.  
  
He was only four at the time, but he still has memories. They’re vague, sure but Dean remembers holding his brother in his arms, he remembers the wailing sirens and the panic in his dads voice. Heart pounding, Dean skids to a stop letting out a breath only as he spots the source.  
  
Everything clears in that moment, and Dean realizes that there had been no smoke in the first place. Just that really, really, nasty burned-food smell. Dean wrinkles his nose as Liz emerges from the kitchen, a tray of black clutched in mitten hands. Dean shakes his head at his own paranoia.  
  
She carefully sets the burning tray in the sink with a mutter. “This is why Roger does all the cooking.”  
  
“Huh?” Dean asks.  
  
Liz finally spots him. It’s early enough that she’s in her own pair of robes, though she wears shorts and a t-shirt. Her hair is a mess of blonde as she offers him a smile. “Don’t worry about it.” She says in what Dean assumes is her soothing voice. She reaches above the kitchen sink, pulling out a cereal box. “We’ll just have to make do with cereal.”  
  
Dean ventures into the kitchen. “Cereal’s good.” He says.  
  
“It can be.” She says, though she frowns at it like she doesn’t agree.  
  
“It is.” he insists, “Lucky charms is Sam’s favorite.” Luckily, that is exactly what the box says. Liz is still frowning at it.  
  
“It can’t be healthy.” She sighs.  
  
Dean grins. “That’s why its good.”  
  
She gives him an unamused look. Dean conveniently spots the coffee maker and makes his way too it. “I’ll make the coffee.”  
  
Liz sighs again. “You do that.” She mumbles, crossing over to the island counter. “First, you might want to get dressed before Caroline wakes up.”  
  
Dean blushes, pausing mid-step. He doesn’t need to look down to know that he’s barely decent and it makes his face redder as he dashes out the room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys go to school.

By the time Sam and Caroline (who had managed to climb out of her crib earlier that morning, and found her way into bed between the two of them) came yawning down the stairs, Dean had taken over. He holds a towel over his shoulder, a spatula in his hand and the handle of a pan in his other. The inside sizzles against the bacon and the vegetables ( added per Liz’s insistence).  
  
Behind him, Liz is leaning back in her chair, her bathrobe open slightly as it drapes against the legs. An amused smirk sparkles in her eyes as she watches Dean. She hides her almost-laughter by pressing her lips against the glass. Dean has seen this before, but his good mood allows him to ignore it. Then again, maybe it was just the practice. He doesn’t know, doesn’t care. Vague memories of his mother put a step in his cheer and he isn’t going to let it go so easily.  
  
Sam sputters for a moment, and his uncertainty makes Dean frown. It lasts a split second before Dean turns around to smile at his brother. “Hi Sammy. Come on, I’m making bacon. It’s going to be awesome.” He animates his words with the spatula in hand and a grin on his face.  
  
Sam blinks. Once, twice, then a third time before he pulls Caroline with him to the counter. He lifts the girl up on the chair with some help from Liz as she pulls Carline by the wrists, and proceeds to finds his own chair to climb on.  
  
“I didn’t know you knew how to cook.” Sam says finally.  
  
Dean shrugs. “Neither did I.” He’s seen shows about it though. When there’s nothing else to do and noone else around, Dean clicks to the food channel and dreams about all the things his mother will never make. Whoever said you can’t learn a thing sitting at the television was wrong because the amount of recipies Dean knows is almost scary.  
  
Liz shakes her head in amazement. “I always seem to find the cooks.” She muses. Dean grins.  
  
“Your food is burning.” Sam observes and grins when Dean swears. He swirls around in an instant, trained reflexes making the movement quick and graceful. The food is fine, though, much to Deans relief and he grunts a complainant at Sam’s false accusation.  
  
“So listen,” Liz said after a few peaceful moments pass. She set her cup down with a distinctive clatter. “I’ve been thinking. Your father said it’d be a while before he came back. He didn’t say anything about your school.”  
  
Sam is silent. Dean can barely hear the soft sound of his breathing. There is a beat, like Liz doesn’t know how to go on. We can take it, Dean thinks to himself, you want to send us to your crappy home-town school. He already knows what’ll come of it. Skipped classes and angry teachers were his forte. Sam, though…  
  
“We don’t have to go.” Sam suggests softly. “Dad home-schooled us, sometimes.” Dean rolls his eyes. He prefers his fathers teachings to the government-run education that taught them useless things, but the man doesn’t exactly have a good track record for taking his time with them. When he does, it’s all about hunting and survival. Sam usually prefers school over Dad’s plan, and the desire to forego it this time made Dean wonder what he missed at the old school.  
  
He can hear the smile in Liz’s voice as she replies. “I know, but I’ve got a job that doesn’t give a lot of time for things like teaching. Besides, you wouldn’t want me as a teacher. I’m lousy with show and tell.” Dean grins at what it implies, casually flipping the bacon over with the spatula. “Listen, the school isn’t that bad. There’s sports to play in, and the kids are alright. How about you give it a try? Dean?”  
  
Dean glances back at her from the corner of his eye. All he sees is Sam’s dropped shoulders and miserable features. “Come on Sammy,” He says helpfully, “You like school, remember?”  
  
Sam shifts but he doesn’t say anything. “I guess.” He murmurs. Dean sets the food down to walk over the counter and ruffle his hair. “It’ll be better this time,” He says. And he adds mentally, if you don’t like it, I‘ll teach you more boxing. The words don’t registered in his mind - not until Dean is shoving the meat and veggies onto separate plates.  
  
I didn’t forget, he tells himself, I’m just doing this for Sammy.  
  
  
The siren doesn’t wail on the way to school on the following Monday. It’s a relief to Dean, but Sam is still fidgeting in the car. Dean rolls his eyes, and reaches around from the front seat to smack his brother on the head. “If that’s what you look like when you get inside, Sammy, I’m surprised the little dipshits” - Dean glances at Liz apologetically but she’s pretending to be too focused on the road to hear them - “don’t eat you alive.”  
  
Sam has always had trouble fitting in. Dean isn’t blind to the bullie fights and calls from teachers. Dad never gets them, though but then, what else is new? Dean has always been the one to bail Sam out of whatever trouble happened to find him. Someone strikes at the nine year old, Dean strikes back.  
  
Sam gives a helpless shrug, his gaze never leaving the window. Dean rolls his eyes again, shakes his head and turns to the front seat. Sam doesn’t want to hear him, and he won’t. The little brat has always been good at ignoring him.  
  
When they approach the school, it’s smaller than most. Exactly what Dean expected. He’s the one who insists on walking Sam into class, letting Liz wait in the car. ‘Trust me,’ he’d said, and given her Sam’s bug-eyed look. Surprisingly, she does but how much, Dean doesn’t know. He does know that he doesn’t like how fast he’s earned that trust.  
  
Dean pats Sam on the back, a grin on his lips as she shoves the boy inside the doors and takes off without a word. Sam knows the routine. He nods at a couple of the middle school girls as they pass by, his lips twitching as they giggle and rush past him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Caroline cause trouble for Dean at school.

The day doesn’t go as quick as Dean had hoped it would. It leaves him staring at the clock, wishing for the first period to end. The moment he is able, Dean ditches the pity-eyed teachers and curious-faced students. He’s never been able to stick inside educational buildings long, although he does stick close. One day, Sam will actually agree to go with him and he could ditch the school all together. Until then, Dean stuffs his hands into his pockets and settles against the wall. It’s a peaceful quiet for a while but, it doesn’t take long for it to be disturbed.  
  
Across from where he stands, a familiar set of gleeful taunts pulls him from the haze of boredom. A figure in skinny jeans, adorned with hunched shoulders is flanked by three other boys, one of which is Logan Fells himself. Seeing the sight of Logan, squeezed in the middle of the duo with his arms slung around both boys, is when Dean realizes that this is the typical sight; not just a casual fling. Laughter erupts from the goons as Logan snickers something towards them. Dean rolls his eyes and lets his feet lead him. Thoughts of the girl – Jenna – linger in the back of his mind but this isn’t just to set an impression. The likes of Logan Fells were running rampant in these towns and what better way to waste time than playing hero?  
  
Hands still stuffed in his pockets, Dean makes his way towards the older boys. He slaps his hand across ‘emo-boy’s’ back and grins. “So, man, you owe me that soda.” He says easily. “Or you know, beer would be cool too.”  
  
Salvatore eyes him with a scowl, but before he can make that initial push, Dean releases his grasp. So much for trying to be nice.  
  
“Winchester.” Logan greets him casually. The age difference doesn’t seem to matter like it would to most kids, though Dean knows he looks older than he should. He’s taller than kids his age, having hit a growth spurt early. At thirteen, he’s as tall as the seniors.  
  
Dean lets his grin shift the way his father does when he wants to threaten without being obvious. Subtleties are important. Subtlety is how you get away with it – whatever ‘it’ happens to be. Inwardly, Dean knows his father would either be furious or proud. Proud, because Dean remains unintimidated; furious because he’s ditching class and getting caught.  
  
“Logan, right?” Dean notes Logan’s hesitant nod. “So, what's there to do around here?”  
  
Logan shrugs his shoulders, running a hand through his hair. Boy band style, the tool, Dean thinks and his lips peel back in amusement.  
  
“Don’t know man,” Logan says, “pretty much nothing.”  
  
Dean starts to say something, managing only a breath as the distraction falls into his line of view. Jenna Sommers makes her way toward him, one hand holding her purse under her arm and the other waving at them. She stops just behind Logan, linking their elbows. It takes effort to keep his face natural as she reaches up to kiss Logan. Why it bothers him, Dean can only guess. Logan smirks at him like he’s won something. Dean smirks back, the laughter in his eyes accepting Logan’s challenge.  
  
“Hi Dean!” Jenna says by the time she pulls away, like she’s known him all her life. Dean flashes his heart-warmer grin her way. Her gaze towards Salvatore goes unnoticed by Logan and the other boys. Dean watches as they exchange glances, her lips curled ever-so-slightly, as if in recognition of the situation.  
“What’s up?”  
  
Logan catches his words before Dean can think up something that doesn’t sound lame. “Nothing, just catching jailbait ditching class like he's got somewhere to be. That's cool - hanging around the back of the school. You're a keeper, tiger. Find the drugs yet?”  
  
Dean fights the scowl, not wanting to let Logan know he’s affected. This is stupid, he grumbles at himself inwardly, get your shit together. “Hey man, I was just waiting for Jenna. I don’t know what your problem is, dude.”  
  
The boy glowers at him, and Dean’s grin returns. Jenna glances beside him, presumably at Salvatore. Logan forces his face together into an amused, sloppy grin as Jenna’s gaze returns to him. His beady eyes remain the same though; tinted with a mean glint. “Cute, kid.” He says and Dean can’t help but narrow his eyes, “your mother would be so proud.”  
  
Dean clenches his jaw, his fists practically forming all on their own. How he’s going to manage to keep from pummeling the guy was the question of the day. It was a comment made out of sarcasm but nobody talks about his mother. There were always snips and snaps and threatened boys but Dean doesn’t take shit easily. Not even from dip-shit cult leaders like Logan Fells.  
  
This is when Jenna decides to step in. She glances at him, then Logan and slaps at Logan’s arm with a frown. “You coming to the party tonight, Dean?” She interrupts pointedly, like they weren’t on the verge of a fist fight.  
  
Dean blinks at her, taking a moment to cool down. Beside him, Salvatore is forgotten, slinking away from the group altogether. “You going to be there?” Dean asks, his gaze on Logan’s clenching muscles.  
  
Jenna beams at him, enough to retrieve his triumphant smile but, it’s already melted by the time it lands on her. “I have to,” she admits with a dramatic sigh, “Best-friends duty and all that. You should come, it’ll be fun.”  
  
“Come on Jenna, we don’t want kids hanging around. It’ll look bad.” Logan complains, adding an “ouch!” when Jenna gives his arm a fisted punch. ’Atta wimp Dean thinks, shooting a narrowed glare at Logan.  
  
Jenna diverts his attention - again - when she talks again. “It’s down by the falls. Just ask around. You can’t miss it. We’ll see you there.” She tugs at Logan, the two wanna-be goons trailing behind them, as her voice fades. “Do you always have to be an ass, Logan?” He hears before Jenna’s too far out of ear-shot.  
  
Dean tilts his head, just a bit, watching as Jenna leads the boys back into the school. It’s when the doors swing shut that Dean remembers Salvatore and turns only to find the previously occupied spot empty. He shrugs and begins to make his way into the school. If nothing else, Logan was right about not having anything else to do.  
  
  
Two hours later, the intercom calls out his name in a bothered voice. Dean is silently grateful for the escape from class, but dreads the meeting. It usually takes a week for the principals to push past their pity and call on him, but it hasn’t even been a day. The fact that it couldn’t be him makes Dean nervous. Sam is good at staying out of trouble for the most part but when he does get in trouble, it’s no small event.  
  
Dean has to make an effort to keep his pace calm-like. Nonetheless, worry for Sam quickens his pace and Dean plasters the don’t-care look on as he strides into the office without care for the secretary whose startled voice blends into the white noise of panic.  
  
An inexperienced teen would blurt out their guilt in a shrill ‘I didn’t do anything’ but Dean knows better than to show his fear. Of course, that might have something to do with his lack of it. Knowing that you’re guilt free goes a long way towards confidence. Keeping his head held high, Dean steps just outside the door. The principal is a tall, lengthy woman with stern features and glasses that rest too far down on her nose. Her wrinkles twist her worried smile into an old woman just over her forties.  
  
“Mr. Winchester,” She greets, “Have a seat.” He doesn’t move.  
  
“Sit.” She says with double the force. Dean shifts, not bothering to stifle his sigh as he obeys. “I’m aware that you and your brother are newcomers here in Mystic Falls. Debuty Forbes explained your situation, however, that does mean you or he will receive special treatment.”  
  
Didn’t expect it, even in his head, the words are muttered in a sullen glare. Dean stares straight ahead, arms crossed as he leans casually against the chair. He can’t help the twitch of his lips as the woman sharpens her glare.  
  
“I received a call concerning your brother from our elementary principal.” She continues pointedly, “Something about a fight on the playgrounds? He’s fine, though the other student has a fracture.”  
  
The woman gives a pregnant pause, her glare dimmed into a pursed frown as she studies him for a reaction. Dean easily meets her eyes, arms crossed as he leans against the chair. “Yeah, so?” He demands after a few moments pass.  
  
With a sigh, the woman pulls off her glasses and rubs at the forehead between the eyes. “I don’t know where you last went to school or how they handle things, Mr. Winchester, but we most certainly do not tolerate violence. Please make sure your brother understands that.”  
  
Sensing the end of the conversation, Dean makes move to stand.   
  
“Hold on a moment there, son.” The woman pulls the desk chair back and opens a drawer. She shuffles through files before returning to her original position. Opening the file on her desk, the woman returns her gaze down on him. “We couldn’t get a hold of your father,” she said, “Or Mrs. Forbes. Is there anybody else we can call during an emergency?”  
  
Dean pauses with a grunt. “No.” He says easily, “It’s just them. Can I go now?”  
  
The woman gives him a long piercing stare before she finally nods her head. She reaches over with a notepad, scribbling something on it. “I expect to see you back ASAP, Mr. Winchester. Don’t dilly dally, got it?”  
  
“Yes Ma’am.” The lie slipped from Dean easily, followed by his trust-me smile. He nearly snatches the note from her hand as she extends it towards him, out of the room before she could tell him to wait one last time.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam protects Caroline.

He finds Sam in an office identical to the one he just left. It doesn’t matter what town they’re in, be it big city or village-esque, the schools are all the same to him. Sam is sitting - make that slouching - in a chair on the wall furthest from thee door. He can hear a murmur from the office behind Sam and assumes that the teacher is ripping a new one to whoever gave his brother the black eye. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Dean makes his way to Sam with a sly grin.  
  
“Good going Sam.” He says, “I was just gunna ditch but this? Way better than a trip to the nurses office.  
  
Sam gives a roll of his eyes, muttering something under his breath. “No way dude,” Dean says, “You’re nine. You don’t get to play the trouble maker. That’s my job, remember?”  
When Sam only answers him with a helpless shrug, Dean finally notices Caroline. She’s as close to Sam as she can get from her spot on the chair beside him. Dean raises an eyebrow at the way she’s glaring at the room in general. “Dude,” he muses, “You gotta tell me what happened.”  
  
Sam shrugs again and Dean is about to rip Sam a new one himself. It’s one thing, pulling this shit with dad and clueless ‘adults’ but him? After everything? Yeah, this was not going to continue.  
  
“Sam,” Dean sighs the name, moving to take a seat at the other side. “stop being a -” he glances at Caroline, “pussy.”  
  
Sam glances up at him as Dean pats his back. “Dean,” he says in what Dean dubs as his whiny voice, “Forget it okay? It’s nothing.”  
  
“Sammy,” Dean urges, “Come on, it’s me. You don’t get a black eye for nothing.” Sam gives him a look, the one that is always accompanied to thoughts of dad and his hunts. It makes Dean roll his eyes. “Hunting’s not nothing.” He tells Sam.  
  
“Sure,” Sam says, “whatever.”  
  
Dean grunts at the dismissal. “God,” he exhales, forgetting about the child listening in on every word. “You’re such a bitch.”  
  
“He is not!” Caroline’s five-year-old voice interrupts their moment. “Take that back!”  
  
Dean grins at the protective tone. “You don’t even know what that means.”  
  
Sam coughs, “actually,” he says, “that’s kind of the issue.”  
  
Dean blinks at his brother. “What?”  
  
Caroline, lifting her chin, crosses her arms at him and glares. “He was mean.” She declares, as if that explains everything. Dean looks to Sam for interpretation.  
  
Sam sighs his defeat and shakes his head. “This guy was picking on Caroline,” he begins, “so I told him to back off and he hit me.”  
  
“You hit him back?” Dean demands.  
  
Sam looks surprised for a moment, and snorts as he shakes his head. Dean doesn’t know what Sam expected. He isn’t some mama’s boy whose going to freak out over one little fight. Besides, this is Sam. It’s good to know that nobody can mess with his brother even when he’s not around. “Sam,” he says when a few moments past and the boy doesn’t answer.  
  
“Why do you think you’re here, Dean?” Sam demands. “Yeah, I hit him, okay.” He sounds guilty and Dean doesn’t understand why. It doesn’t matter. Dean finds himself grinning at his brother and patting him on the back.  
  
“Don’t worry about it, Sam.” He says, “It’s good that you did. I mean, now he’s not going to mess with little Carrie over there, right?”  
  
Caroline glowers at the nick name. She huffs at the both of them, turning her gaze towards the door where Dean came in from. “It’s not fair.” she mutters with a pout.  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” Dean repeats, keeping his hand where it is. “So, you suspended or what?”  
  
Sam doesn’t answer and Caroline pouts at the door. Dean snorts at the pair they make, his mood entirely too good for it to last. “Come on, Sam. Lets get outta here.” Dean makes a motion to lift himself from the chair.  
  
“She said she wanted to talk to you first.”  
  
Dean pauses with a frown. _Great,_ he thinks. _Just what I need, another meeting with the principal._ “Oh,” he says out loud, settling back in his chair. “Okay then.”  
  
And they wait.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean teaches Caroline how to throw a punch.

“No you do it like this.” Dean thrusts his fist in the air so Caroline can see. With her small stature and short arms, Caroline doesn’t reach nearly as far as Dean does but she learns quickly. By the look Sam is giving him, Dean isn’t sure that’s a bad thing. He pretends not to notice, though, instead taking in the thumb Caroline still sticks out.   
  
“Look, Carrie,” he says, “You can’t go like that. You have to tuck your thumb in - like this.” He shows her his thumb-tucked fist and throws it at an invisible opponent for what has to be the tenth time. Trailing behind them, Sam snorts at the new nick name. Caroline doesn’t understand the implications of the name but thanks to his big-brother education plan, Dean knows Sam does.   
  
“Dean,” Sam calls his name in protest and Dean rolls his eyes. They’ve walked for about ten minutes and by all means should be back at the house by now, but Dean took them through a short cut in the forest. Probably the number one mistake most kids would make but Dean’s pretty sure he can fight off anything that comes at them. Besides, he’s pretty sure nobody is home so who says its safer?   
  
“Come on, Sammy.” Dean urges, “You’re not afraid are you?”   
  
Sam rolls his eyes. “This place is creepy,” he says, “and anyway, we’re going to get Caroline in trouble.”   
  
“Oh yeah,” Dean teases, “I forgot you were playing night-in-shining-armor. You remember the part where she’s five dude?” Caroline blushes as she peers between the two of the them and Dean shoots her a grin. “Besides,” he says with a wink Caroline’s way and a laugh at Sam, “there is nothing wrong with a girl who can fight.”  
  
“Yeah,” Sam agrees sarcastically, “until she gets into it with someone bigger and stronger than her.”   
  
Dean scoffs, “We do just fine, don’t we? Besides - look at Liz. I bet she knows how to fight.”   
  
“That’s different,” Sam sniffs, “She’s a cop.”   
  
Dean snorts. “You gotta make up your mind, Sammy. Older or younger - you can’t have both. Not that I blame you but dude, next time your all up in my business, I am holding this against you.”   
  
Sam sighs. “I’m not a pervert, Dean.” He whines. “That award goes to you.”   
  
Dean shrugs. “I’m not the one messing around with five year olds.”   
  
Sam rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Dean.” He mutters.   
  
“I don’t mind.” Caroline chimes in from the side. Dean grins. “You hear that, Sammy? She’s going to wait for you all chick-flick like.“ His grin broadens as he continues the teasing, “It’s the chick flick of your life.”   
  
Sam doesn’t roll his eyes at him again, he’s preoccupied with something just beyond him. Dean frowns at the sudden change. “I’m joking, dude.” He assures Sam, “You don’t have to take everything so seriously.”   
  
“No,” Sam says, “Do you hear that?”   
  
Dean pauses but he doesn‘t hear a thing. He feels it, though. A rustle of the trees. The sound of wind. It isn’t natural though. He can smell a hint of cologne and something else. Something he can’t quite put his finger on. Below his feet, the browned, fallen leaves are disturbed from their resting place on the forest floor. He pulls Caroline closer to him, pushing her behind him. He can hear her swallow as she tries to figure out what’s going on. He doesn’t care that they’re probably scaring her for nothing. At least, that’s what he tells himself.   
  
A sound erupts from the cluster of trees. Dean bends down to pull up his jeans and reaches into the insides of his socks to pull out a knife.   
  
“Sam?” Caroline’s voice is a squeak.   
  
“It’s fine,” Sam says, “Dean’ll take care of it.”   
  
Dean rolls his eyes. Great, he thinks just what I need. Another little sister. Outwardly, he concentrates on the surroundings. Something blurs past them and Dean grips the knife tighter. Sam and Caroline press closer to him. Sam is smart, though. He places Caroline between them and then their backs are touching.   
  
“It’s probably just some idiot playing a joke on us.” Dean says loudly, in case that happens to be the case. He wouldn’t put it past that idiot Logan Fells. And if it was him? He doubted Jenna was around to save him from a well deserved black eye. She might not even try if she was there.   
  
“I don’t think idiots move that fast.” Sam points out softly. He’s wielding his own weapon now; a knife similar to Dean’s.   
  
“Shut up, Sammy.” Dean mutters.   
  
“I want to go home.” Caroline says, on the verge of tears.   
  
“C’mon Carrie.” Dean says in an attempt at reassurance, “Don’t be a cry-baby.”   
  
“Dean.” Sam’s voice is one of exasperation and Dean grunts. He loosens his stance as the forest stills again.   
  
“I think it’s cool now.” He says, “Come on, lets get out of here.” He moves forward but doesn’t relinquish his weapon. Not even when they find their way out of the forest and back into the main streets.   
  
  
Liz is waiting for them when they get back. Her arms are crossed as she leans against the frame of the kitchen’s screen door. Like she knows they had taken a short cut. Dean doesn’t know how she managed to get the call from the school, drive home, and wait in the span of twenty five minutes. Well, aside from the obvious fact that small towns have nothing to hinder busy parents. Even if they are the busy-cop types.   
  
The air is chilly. Dean suspects that it’s more a mental thing than the mild chills of winter. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, along with the knife he’d donned just a few minutes earlier. He doesn’t duck his head the way Caroline and Sam are. He isn’t afraid of Liz. That feeling in the pit of his stomach? It has more to do with the relief of being away from the odd smell in the forest than guilt.   
  
“Living room,” Liz says calmly. “Now.” Her anger isn’t shouted the way dads is. Her body is set the way dad’s is just before he’s about to start shouting at somebody. Dean can spot the coiled stance a mile away and he instinctively hunches away from the offending aura.   
  
They sulk into the room in a single filed line. Liz follows them, her breathing labored and controlled. Dean finds himself stiff as he fails to fall carelessly into the couch. It billows in protest of his weight and settles as Sam takes the other end. Caroline wedges herself between them. She hiccups and Dean wants to roll his eyes at the scene she makes with her red-rimmed eyes and ducked head.   
  
“Do you want to tell me why you’re home so early or do I have to fill in the blanks myself?”   
  
This is her cop voice. Dean heard it in the way she talked to Roger and in the way she had talked to his father. Dean suspects that it keeps her from being anything worse than an angry mother. He isn’t sure exactly what is worse than an angry mother, but the fact that she is showing restraint now, proves that it could be much, much worse.   
  
When nobody says anything, Liz lets out a long, exaggerated breath. “Fine.” She breathes the word, like it’s a chore. Dean isn’t sure what to say but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t actually care. It wasn’t like they did anything wrong. “I got a call from the principal at work today.” She says, “She told me there were some issues between Samuel and another student. I don’t know what kind of - stuff your father teaches you boys but in my house we do not condone fighting. Especially not the kind that gets you suspended from school.”   
  
A couple beats pass. Dean is fully aware that he should be saying something right now, but he isn’t sure what she wants them to say. He sure as hell wasn’t sorry. Sorry his brother got caught, maybe, but not that he was defending Liz’s daughter.   
  
“It’s Sam.” Sam says softly after the silence freezes.   
  
“Excuse me?” Liz chews the words between her teeth.   
  
“It’s not Samuel,” Sam explains. “It’s Sam.” He squirms beside Caroline, but he doesn’t shrink under the glare. Pride surges through Dean, breaking through the cold in his blood.   
  
“I don’t care.” Liz snaps, “Why in the -” she cuts herself off with a deep breath. “You’re a good kid, Sam.” She says not unkindly. “I know you had a reason but there is no reason you should be getting in fights. Especially at your age. Explain this to me.”   
  
Dean is starting to wonder if he’s just here for show. Everything seems to be on Sam. He doesn’t like it, the way Liz is talking to them - to Sam - like she’s their mother or something.   
  
“It’s not his fault.” Caroline says between sniffs and shallow breaths.  
  
Dean rolls his eyes. Sick and tired of the dramatics, he gives a dramatic sigh and pitches in. “Some kid called Caroline a bitch,.” He said, “Sam was just playing big-brother.”   
  
Liz blinks at them. “Actually,” Sam corrects helpfully, “He told her you were a bitch and Caroline was too. I didn’t hit him until he hit me first because I called him a stupid bully.”   
  
It was Dean’s turn to blink at Sam. He hadn’t heard this version and, looking at the way his brother straightened in an act of what Dean suspected was supposed to be bravery, he could tell this was the real version. Why Sam hadn’t told him this in the first place escaped Dean, and he didn’t like what it implied.   
  
Liz heaves a sigh. “Is this true, Caroline?” She asks gently. Finally seeming to gather herself together, Caroline nods.   
  
Liz lifts her hands to her temples. As if relieving whatever was bothering her, she lets her hands fall to the side. “If someone is calling names, the best thing to do is walk away.” She says wisely and Dean does roll his eyes at the oh-so-helpful advice. Like they hadn’t heard that a million times.   
  
“Lets make a deal, okay? If something like this happens again, I want you to ignore him and tell me when you get home, okay?” She looks at all three of them and Dean gives a dismissive shrug.   
  
“I wasn’t even there,” He tells her, “I just picked them up.”   
  
Liz gives him a strained smile. “Of course you did.” She says and the pity has returned to her voice. Dean scowls at it. “Thank you,” she adds and Dean isn’t sure what to call the sound in her voice.   
  
“No problem.” He mutters, not sure what else to say. “Can we go now?”   
  
“Only if you promise not to take any more long short-cuts.” She tells him, “You could have been here ten minutes ago.”   
  
“Sure.” Dean agrees, thinking of the blur in the forest, “No problem.” 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Liz have a moment.

That night, Dean waits until Liz is in the kitchen, learning how to cook with the aid of Sam and Caroline. Dean had already told her that he had plans for the night. She had pursed her lips in protest but she didn’t say anything. He doesn’t think much about it. She’s lucky he even told her he was going out. Usually, nobody is around to care until it’s too late.   
  
It takes him ten minutes to find out that the party is a nook in the forest. It’s like a mini-park, clustered with beer cans, kids making out and stumbling teenagers. Chatter fills the air but it is muffled by the blasted music. Kids Dean doesn’t recognize glance at him curiously. Dean ignores them, eyes out for Jenna and - unfortunately - Logan. He figures if he finds Logan, he’ll find Jenna. That seems to be how it works.   
  
Instead of Jenna and her body guard, though, Dean manages to find Salvatore. The so-called freak is lurking in the corner like… well like some kind of stalker-freak thing. Dean snorts at the picture the sulking, crowd-scanning image the kid makes. It’s a wonder how he survived this long.   
  
Decision made, Dean makes his way to the clad-in-skinny-jeans kid. “So,” he says as he stops to stand beside Salvatore, “see anything interesting?”   
  
There is no answer. Dean rolls his eyes. “Look, between you and me, this is the lamest party I’ve ever been too. Okay - so most high school parties are lame but the secret to making it not-boring? Usually involves a girl. Or two.” Dean smirks at Salvatore. He’s earned a raised eyebrow and a bottle touched to lips. Salvatore is pretending to ignore him but Dean figures now isn’t the time to start taking hints.   
  
“Seriously, dude. We both know why you’re here.”   
  
Salvatore fixes him with a look and pulls the hand holding his bottle just far enough away that it hovers in the air. “You’ve been here what, two days? And you think you know how things work here?”  
  
“It’s been a week, actually.” Dean corrects, “I’ve only been in your school for a couple of days though. C’mon, it’s not that hard to see how it goes. I’ve been to enough towns to know that all schools are pretty much the same.”   
  
Salvatore snorts. “Are you really a Sophomore?’  
  
Dean shrugs. “Blame it on the genetics.”   
  
“Uh-huh.” Salvatore turns his attention back to the crowd. “Look, kid, don’t get me wrong. You seem pretty cool for a Sophomore but I’m not a people-person.”   
  
Dean glances at Salvatore. “I’m not people.” He tells Salvatore with a grin. He laughs at the way he sounds - like a chick trying to hit on a mysterious loner-boy. “Look, man,” he says in a mocking tone, “I’m not trying to play hero-boy, you’re just the closest thing to cool this stupid towns got.”   
  
Salvatore looks at him with an inquiring eyebrow. “Right.” he says dryly, “And this has nothing to do with Jenna Somers.”   
  
Dean shrugs. “Maybe a little.” He tells Savlatore, “but you know the saying about scratching backs. You do mine - I do yours?”   
  
The older boy shakes his head. “Sorry,” he says, “not interested.”   
  
Dean frowns. “It’s not like I’m asking you for a lot here.” He says, “just - information or something.”   
  
Salvatore snorts. “Good luck getting it on your own.” He lifts himself from the table he was leaning on and takes a last drink from his bottle, and lets it drop to the floor. He takes off before Dean can say anything more.   
  
Well, Dean thinks, there goes that plan.  
  
  
Dean has never been so unsure of how to approach a girl before. This fact hits him as he finally spots Jenna in the middle of the crowd. It’s the same crowd as before - Logan and a bunch of his friends and some “I-wanna-be-popular” kids. Jenna slaps Logan, hard at something he says. He has a hand to his cheek and uses his free one to grab Jenna by the wrist.   
  
“Come on, Jenna.” Logan says and his slurred words give away his drunken state. It’s only an hour into the party and Dean wonders how much he missed with the pre-party party.   
  
“Let go.” Jenna jerks her arm away from Logan, stumbling back. She shoves him and then past the crowd as she stomps away.   
  
“You okay?” Dean asks as she passes him. He catches her as she trips. A sniffle escapes her and Dean is worried that she is about to cry. Shit he thinks.   
  
“He’s such a - a jerk!” She isn’t quite wailing. Dean doesn’t know how to handle the emotion behind the words. Actually, he isn’t quite sure how to handle Jenna.   
  
“I thought that was already established, remember? We toasted to it.” The voice comes from behind them and Salvatore is pulling Jenna to him by the waist.   
  
Jenna leans into Salvatore easily. “I know, I know.” She says, as if Dean isn’t there. “But things were going to be dfferent.”   
  
“Uh-huh.” Salvatore says, already bored with the subject. Dean has the feeling that this sort of thing happened a lot. “Come on, Jenn. Lets get you sober so your mom doesn’t kill you. Again.”   
  
Jenna snorts. “She’s busy.” She says with a sniff, “with Melinda’s latest crisis.”   
  
“Well we should sober you up anyway.” Salvatore says, leading Jenna away from the party and towards the parking lot. “So you can go and kick Logans ass.”   
  
Jenna reaches for Dean and he takes that as his cue to follow. Salvatore shoots him a look, but Dean ignores it. “Man, would I pay to see that.” Dean says appreciatively.   
  
Jenna grins and follows it with a sigh. She stumbles again, even in Salvatore’s grip and Dean moves to catch her again. He keeps hold of her other side and follows Salvatore to his car.   
  
  
The house they pull into is huge. It’s like something off a television set. Dean imagines something off of an x-men comic.   
  
“Jeez,” He says, as they venture down the stairs. “This place is creepy as hell. No offence, dude.” Jenna is passed out in what Dean assumes is a guest room. There is a lot of them.   
  
“None taken.” Salvatore says. Dean looks around, “so. Any parental ambush we gotta worry about?”   
  
Salvatore shrugs, hands shoved in his pockets. “Dads out.” He says, “look. You don’t have to stay here. I’ve got a handle on things.”   
  
“What and let you have all the glory of the hero?”   
Salvatore snorts. “I forgot you didn’t have anything better to do. Does this happen a lot or is Jenna your first victim?”   
  
“What are you talking about?” Dean demands.   
  
“You don’t strike me as the puppy-love type.” Salvatore explains.   
  
“It’s not like that.” Dean shrugs, “She’s just - Hot. You know, this town doesn‘t have a lot to offer in the way of ladies.”   
  
“Uh-huh.” Salvatore weaves through the living room, stopping almost instantly. He turns the other way, ushering Dean out of the room before he can see what caused the stiffness. The smell of cologne is familiar. Dean plants himself in the doorway.   
  
“Dude.” He says, “thought you said nobody was here.”  
  
“I said dad was out, I don’t remember saying anything about nobody being here.”   
  
Dean shrugs. “Kinda got the impression.” he says. He’s shoved towards the door they had come in through just a few minutes ago.   
  
“Look,” Salvatore says, “thanks for helping me with the whole Jenna thing. She’ll see you at school, okay?”   
  
Dean frowns. “Not really.” He says, “not until you tell me who the hell is in there.”   
  
Salvatore glares at him. “Look,” he says again, “it’s none of your business.”  
  
It wasn’t, and Dean is fully aware of this fact but frankly? He doesn’t care. Dean crosses his arms, glowering right back at the boy. “So?” He demands.   
  
“There a problem here?” The voice comes from behind them and it seems to freeze Salvatore. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean encounters another Salvatore.

The man is taller than Salvatore, though not by much. He has short dark hair, and the kind of looks that has girls swooning. There is something odd about him, though. Something dark and altogether terrifying. Dean doesn’t understand where the fear is coming from. It’s just some stupid, twenty - something dude.  
  
“You going to introduce me to your friend, Zach?” There’s a threat behind his words as he places a hand across Salvatore’s shoulder. Dean spots a huge, gaudy ring on his finger. He raises an eyebrow at it and the smile he receives is snake-like.  
  
“Family heirloom.” The man explains. He lifts his arm from Zach’s shoulder and offers it to him. “I’m Damon. Zach’s … cousin.”  
  
The hesitance makes Dean glance at Salvatore - Zach. Zach is pale, like he’d seen a ghost. Despite his better judgment, Dean takes the mans hand. The grasp is cold, almost shocking with the temperature. Dean jerks his hand back, frowning up at the man.  
  
“Uh,” He says awkwardly. “Nice to meet you.”  
  
“You too, Dean.”  
  
Dean stiffens. He doesn’t remember giving up his name. The fact that this man knows it - despite that - freaks him out. Maybe he was just being paranoid. The way Zach is looking between the two of them, like he expects some kind of fall out, makes Dean weary. This whole thing was weird.  
  
“You’ll have to excuse the intrusion,” Damon says, returning to wrap an arm around Zach’s shoulder again, “Me and Zach here, have something to discuss. He’ll have to catch up with you later.”  
  
Dean frowns. Zach looks trapped and Dean doesn’t like the idea of leaving him alone. He makes his decision then and there. With a nod, he shoves his hands into his pocket. “No problem,” He says, “I can wait.”  
  
Damon looks at him, a small smirk curling the corners of his lips. “Sure you can,” he says, “but this is family business. I’m sure you know what I mean, Dean-o.”  
  
Dean glares at Damon. He doesn’t like the nick name, doesn’t like this man and doesn’t like the way Zach seems frozen in his grasp. “I don’t remember telling you my name.”  
  
Damon gives him a toothy smile. “Jenna is louder than she thinks she is.” He offers.  
  
“You know her?”  
  
“Sure.” Damon says. “Kid, we’ve got things to do. So, if you don’t mind, make like a runt and skedaddle” he makes a running motion with his free hands fingers as he says the words.  
  
The warning squeeze on Zach’s shoulder doesn’t escape his view, and Dean peers up at Zach. The boy shrugs helplessly, “Don’t worry about it.” He says, “We’ll catch up at school.”  
  
Dean doesn’t like the thought of leaving Zach with Damon but he doesn’t have anything that proves Damon is anything other than a jack-ass cousin. He nods, backing out the door. “You know where to find me.” He says.  
  
Zach nods but Dean isn’t really gone. The moment he is able, he finds the nearest window. He can’t see anything. Zach and Damon are out of view and he can’t spot them in the living room. There is a crash from inside. It makes Dean jump back several steps. Then, silence. The silence stretches into a pregnant pause and it makes Dean’s bones coil.  
  
Dean waits several heart beats before he makes his move. He opens a window, surprised to find that it isn’t locked and crawls in. Zach is in the other side of the room, flat on the floor as he rubs his neck.  
  
“You okay man?” Dean asks, extending his hand to help Zach up.  
  
“You make a habit of breaking into people’s home?” Zach counters.  
  
Dean snorts. “You don’t know the half of it.” He tells the boy honestly. “Where’s your … cousin?”  
  
“Gone.” Zach helps himself up. “Look, Winchester, I need a favor.”  
  
“Oh, now he wants my help.” Dean says. “What happened to ‘none of my business’?”  
  
Zach sighs. “Look,” he says, dusting himself off, “I need to make a trip out of town. You want to come or not?”  
  
Dean blinks at Zach. “Um,” He says, “Sure, but I gotta let Sam know first.”  
  
“My brother.” Dean explains when Zach gives him a blank look.  
  
“Oh, sure. No problem. You can use my phone.” Zach says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So chapter 13 is currently missing. I've got the entire fic written out but I can't find the next chapter. I think I know where the file is but it'll be a couple days before I can get to it. Sorry guys! 
> 
> Also, I'm totally still working on Blood & Thunder. The muse is coming back and I've got a new method of writing that will help me finish the story! Until then, please enjoy Lies of the Rebel and other works that are being transferred from my LJ.


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